~The Poet’s Poet~
Wonderful indeed when a plan succeeds
A nod of approval feeds his needs
Unlike the Rolling Stones he garners Great Satisfaction
Helps him Stay Forever Young
Having literary conversations with himself
Indulging in reminiscence, daydreaming
His time is his own once he sits to write
Lifelines are to be found in the strangest of places
Which jettison thoughts he never thought imaginable
All lead in one direction only which satisfies his writerly mind.
The rapscallion, he saw him out of the corner of his eye
From his perch in the writers room
Third floor of the library, he snatched her bag
Up on the bicycle and was gone.
Again he made it down three flights of stair
The lady had vanished, the side street bare
Returning, his mind in turmoil
He could think of no fitting way to conclude his poem
So he closed the book.
© Chris Black. January 2019